


i'll be better than my worst critic

by demistories



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Background Relationships, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Friendship, Very Minor, gotta protect the children, like super minor romance, the rating is literally only for minor swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-26
Updated: 2016-01-26
Packaged: 2018-05-16 08:31:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5821474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demistories/pseuds/demistories
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marinette's fingers are starting to bleed. </p><p>She's been sewing for hours and hours. She's covered in chalk and pin-pricks. Her hands are cramping and her eyes are dry. She only stopped to eat when Tikki held a pastry in front of her face. The day had long ago turned to night. </p><p>But she's finishing this dress.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i'll be better than my worst critic

**Author's Note:**

> Ok minimal context: I was in physics today and talking to a friend about writing. I said something, and this girl in my class subtweeted me about it and when someone showed it to me I kind of burst into tears. So here we are, me projecting again. 
> 
> Thanks to [Maya](http://zoenightstars.tumblr.com) for 1) helping me through this, especially since I got inspiration from a few of the things she said to me and 2) for always being there to cry about characters. 
> 
> (Warning: minor disordered eating. I'm unsure if anything else needs to be tagged, so let me know!)

Marinette's fingers are starting to bleed.

She's been sewing for hours and hours. She's covered in chalk and pin-pricks. Her hands are cramping and her eyes are dry. She only stopped to eat when Tikki held a pastry in front of her face. The day had long ago turned to night.

"Chat is probably waiting for you," Tikki says, tugging lightly on one of Marinette's pigtails.

Marinette drops the fabric and presses the base of her palms into her eyes. She only stops when she starts seeing colors swirl behind her eyelids. "I'll call him and tell him to take patrol by himself tonight."

" _Marinette_ ," Tikki draws out. "You need a break!"

"I need to _finish_ this." Marinette stretches her hands. "This isn't a choice, Tikki."

"It _is_ ," Tikki protests. "This is a choice you're making. There’s no possible way that you can finish this in a way you’d be proud of in one night. You don't _need to._ Please make the choice to take care of yourself?"

"I do take care of myself."

Tikki crosses her arms.

Marinette sighs, because okay yes. That was a pretty blatant lie. "I'll go out for half an hour, how's that?"

Tikki slumps in defeat. "If that's the best I can get out of you, it's fine."

Marinette smiles. "I'll get you a whole plate of cookies when we get back."

Tikki brightens. "As long as you eat too!"

"Fine. Tikki, spots on!"

* * *

Chat is waiting at their usual spot. He jumps up when she swings onto the roof, bowing dramatically and kissing her hand. "My Lady! I was afraid you had abandoned me!"

Ladybug rolls her eyes. "Don't be ridiculous. I just got…caught up in something."  

He raises an eyebrow. "Something?"

She pushes him away by the nose. "Stay out of the cream, alley cat. It's not related to this or you."

Chat shrugs and sits down on the edge of the roof, swinging his legs over the side. "But it's boring tonight, LB. It's too cold for anything to happen."

"It's never too anything for an akuma attack," she says. She slides down to meet him.

"Yeah yeah." He leans back on his hands. "It's just weird to have the city so quiet."

She hums in agreement. The city of Paris is laid out below them like a grid. She can see the structure and patterns… She thinks about the patterns sitting on her desk. Maybe if she tries draping the fabric more it'll look more natural. And the stitching should probably be nearly invisible. She needs to do a fitting with Alya tomorrow, hopefully they don't have a lot of homework. She can do it in this timeframe. She can do it. She has talent. She _is_ a designer. She is and she's going to prove it. As soon as she figures out how to put together this _goddamn dress_. She wants to scream or cry or possibly jump off the roof into the deep snow drifts. Maybe the shock of cold will break her out of this mindless spinning.

Chat nudges her.

She can hold off on the hypothermia for now. "Yeah?"

His bright eyes are worried. "You weren't answering."

"Oh. Sorry.”

He waits a few seconds before saying, “You said before that whatever was wrong wasn’t related to this.”

“Chat—”

“But it is if it’s affecting your concentration, isn’t it? I mean, I don’t want to pry, but you know you can talk to me, right?”

Ladybug takes a long breath and stares out on the city. “I know.” She can feel his eyes on her, but she’s not ready. Not yet.

Part of her wants to hold onto this anger for the rest of her life. To accomplish everything out of spite, to be able to look back on it and say “I proved you wrong”. At the same time, she feels like if she doesn’t say anything she’ll turn to dust. This angry fire will turn her to ashes, and she’ll blow away over the Seine.

In the dark of the night, Chat really does look like a cat. Large, unblinking eyes, an emerald green so bright she could create an entire spring line around the color. He just watches her, waiting.

So many people had heard it.

She’d blinked back tears and run out of school. People tried to tell her to ignore it. It didn’t stop the feeling of absolute worthlessness. Which is ridiculous, because honestly, at this point she should be used to it.

Ladybug pulls her legs to her chest, resting her chin between her knees. “It’s just a classmate.”

Chat scoots closer. His side presses against hers, and he leans his head against her shoulder. “Doesn’t seem like just a classmate.”

She rolls her eyes. “She’s not. But…I mean, it’s ridiculous. I shouldn’t be so upset. And she didn’t even say it to my face, so…”

“It’s not ridiculous if it’s how you feel, Ladybug. Trust me. Feelings are weird, but they’re valid. And things that are said behind your back— They can definitely hurt. Sometimes more.”

“Yeah, but she does this constantly. I probably should’ve expected.”

She can feel him shake his head. “Just because it’s happened before doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to feel.”

Ladybug sinks in on herself, slumping. The suit and Tikki’s magic keep her somewhat warm, but she wishes she could feel more of the icy breeze. “Did I ever tell you that I want to be a designer?” she asks.

If Chat is surprised by the change of subject, he doesn’t show it. “I would’ve remembered that.”

“It’s been my dream since I was little. I doodle designs in class, my room is filled with fabrics and discarded ideas. I’ve been working towards fashion design my entire life.” She squeezes her eyes shut. “I was talking to my best friend about one of my designs today. It’s a dress, I’ve been planning it out for months, I… I’ve never been more _proud_ of something.”  

“I’m sure it’s beautiful.”

“N—” She stops herself and smiles. “I’m not sure about that. I’ve only just started it tonight. I only just finished drawing it out and planning. Other than the drawing, I’ve only got a mental image right now.”

“Probably still as beautiful as you, My Lady.”

She holds onto his words tightly so she can get out the rest of the story. “School had just ended, and we were leaving, and I hear— She was saying to her friend something like “she says ‘well as a designer that’s what I’m trying to achieve’ inferring that she’s designed and sold numerous clothing lines.’” She blinks rapidly a few times before adding Chloé’s snotty, “‘As if.’”

Chat sits up with a jerk. “What the fuck.”

“It was just a single comment.” Ladybug wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. She hates how her gloves feel against her eyes. Harsh and _wrong._ She’s supposed to be strong when she’s Ladybug. It’s the one time when she pushes her emotions to the very, very back of the her mind and _ignores them_ for as long as she possibly can. It’s when she gets to have a clear head and release some of her emotions through action. Not talking.

“A single comment that disregarded all your hard work and ambitions!”

“Chat, it’s fine,” she says stubbornly. “I shouldn’t still be upset about it, it’s silly.”

He grabs her by the shoulders. “No it’s _not_. That’s a really shitty thing to say. You’re a designer, Ladybug. It’s part of who you are, your identity. And she attacked it, so yeah, of course you’re going to be upset.”

She looks away. She can’t look him in the eyes not right now, not with tears still blurring her vision. “I just… It all just feels…weird.”  

“That’s okay. Anything, everything, you feel? That’s okay. Besides, you don’t have to sell a clothing line to be a designer. Believe me, I know plenty of designers whose clothing has never even been made. Their designs just sit in sketchbooks, but they’re still designers.” Chat takes her face in his hands. “Got that? You’re a designer, no matter what anyone says to you.”

Ladybug nods. “Okay. If you say so, Chat.”

He smirks. “Of course I say so. And I have connections, so you have to trust me.” He lets go of her face and she momentarily mourns the loss of him before he leans back against her side.  

“I always trust you,” she says softly. “I trust you with everything but humor.”

Chat gives her an offended look. “Then trust me when I say you’re going to be a fantastic designer. And you can dedicate your second line to her. ‘Thank you asshole in high school who said I wouldn’t be a designer until I sold numerous lines. My spite is what brought me here today. Fuck you.’”

Ladybug can’t stop herself from laughing. It’s sort of a bittersweet laugh. She feels empty and burnt out, but Chat is here and he’s solid and comforting and Alya has promised to punch Chloé in the face as soon as she's given the word. This laugh feels like a small spark in her emptiness. She hopes the spark will catch.

Maybe with this vision of rubbing a collection in Chloé’s face she’ll find the motivation to create for months. Maybe not. But right now, she can see her dress in a slightly different light. It’s no longer cast in the shadows of anger and invalidation that fell across it after school. She can see it in her mind almost as she used to.

“Thank you,” she whispers. She wipes her cheeks and lets herself lean a little more on Chat. Her suit feels a little less harsh against her skin.

“I’m always here, My Lady, whenever you need me. As long as you promise not to work on this dress all night.” Chat’s smile is so genuine and real that it _hurts_.

Her heart is consumed by this overwhelming feeling of _‘I don’t deserve him. He’s too good for me.’_ She brushes it away, because that’s not the issue at hand here. Even if that smile, a smile she’s never seen before when she thought she knew every expression the silly cat had, makes her feel lightheaded.

“Promise,” she says.

He narrows his eyes. “Change of rules, you can only work on the dress until one am. Then you have to sleep. No loopholes.”

Ladybug smiles. “I promise, tomcat. Don’t worry.”

He smirks. There’s the Chat she knows, who doesn’t make her head do funny things. But the hint of his real smile ghosts the corner of the smirk. “I never worry, LB, that’s your job.”

* * *

“Holy shit, Marinette, you’ve out done yourself!”

Marinette shakes her head. “The draping is still a little awkward in some places, and the beading is a bit messy and—”

“And it’s gorgeous?” Alya asks, grabbing her hands. “Mari, this is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever worn, you are not allowed to criticize your work for twenty four hours.”

“Since when?” Marinette puts down the thread that she’d been wrapping and unwrapped while Alya put on the dress.

“Since I created that rule just now.” Alya puts her hands on her hips. “If this is what you’re doing now, imagine what you’ll do when you’ve actually gone to school for this stuff!”

“Thanks, Alya.” Marinette collapses in the chair. “But I never want to bead anything ever again.” 

“That’s because you spent almost three weeks working on this dress.” Alya twirls, testing to see how the skirt flares when she spins. The beads are cheap, but the light still catches on them exactly like Marinette wanted them to. It makes her irrationally happy to see the light sparkle and dot her walls.

“You were serious about me wearing this to Chloé’s party?” Alya asks.

Marinette raises an eyebrow. “Of course! I made it _for you_ , Alya. If you want to wear it you can.”

Alya smirks and plays with the skirt. “You’re the best, girl. Not only are we going to be the bells of the ball, I am also going to rub this dress in her face so hard.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Marinette says quickly.

Alya crosses her arms across her chest. “It’s my dress, isn’t it? I can do what I want with it. But I promise I’ll take good care of it.”

Marinette sighs and sags against her chair. “As long as you like it.”

Alya shoots her a look. “Is that even a question?”

“I guess not.” Marinette picks up Alya’s phone. “Now didn’t you promise me as many pictures as I wanted?”

* * *

“So I’m not allowed to loudly announce that you made this dress the minute we walk in?” Alya asks.

Marinette hits Alya’s arm lightly. “No! If anyone asks, go ahead. But you don’t need to announce it to the world.”

Alya nudges her right back. “Say what you want, I think I do.” Her phone buzzes. “Nino and Adrien are around the corner. They don’t want us to go in without them. That’s from Nino, but I feel like us going in together is more so Adrien is likely to get jumped by Chloé.”

“I wouldn’t say he’s been _jumped_ by her yet,” Marinette muses.

“It is only a matter of time, girl. Oh, there they are.”

They turn to see the boys at the bottom of the steps. Nino is staring at Alya with his mouth open. Marinette hides a smile and pretends not to notice Alya’s growing blush. Adrien looks between them before shaking his head and pulling Nino up the steps by his arm.

“Y-you look nice,” Nino says. “I mean the dress. Nice dress. It’s a nice… You’re nice.”

Alya blinks. “You’re nice too,” she says. “And Mari made the dress, isn’t it great!” She pulls Marinette in front of her. 

She rolls her eyes. It's not like Alya and Nino haven't talked talk about their feelings before, why does she have to be the awkward barrier? 

“You made this?”

Nino is still staring at Alya gape mouthed. Marinette slowly turns to Adrien. He’s studying the dress in surprise and Marinette thinks there’s a very high possibility that she just may pass out.

“Yeah she did!” Alya says proudly. “Look at it, isn’t it gorgeous?!”

Adrien nods. “It’s incredible.”

“And a big fuck you to Chloé,” she adds smugly.

“What did Chloé do?”

“That thing a few weeks ago?” Nino asks, finally having found his voice. His face is still a dark shade of red.

“It was nothing,” Marinette insists, waving her hand. “Just something Chloé said—”

“‘Just something she said’,” Alya repeats. She flips her hair. “‘Like she’s sold multiple clothing lines’ or something like that. Let me fight her, Mari.”

“It’s her own party, the dress is fighting enough.”

Alya shrugs. “Fine. I’ll fight her later.” She holds out a hand to Nino, who stares at it like she just offered him the secrets of the universe. “Wanna go in?”

He nods quickly and takes her hand, glancing back at Adrien as Alya pulls them through the door. Adrien gives him a quick thumbs up.

“Thanks, by the way,” Marinette says before things can get awkward. “I’m glad you think the dress is nice.”

Adrien smiles. “You’re welcome, and the dress is more than nice. I’m pretty sure my _dad_ would be jealous.”

She blinks rapidly. “Oh.”

“That’s a compliment,” he promises. “You’re going to design awesome stuff, Marinette.”

Marinette bites her lip and tucks a curl behind her ear. “Thanks. It means a lot. We should probably join the party.”   
  
“Yeah,” he glances through the doors, “but one more thing. Did Chloé really say that to you?”

Her shoulders slump. “Not to my face, no. So I might not even be right in thinking it might’ve been about me.”

Adrien gives her a weird look. She doesn’t know how to describe it, and can’t figure out what he might be thinking. “She said to be a designer you have to sell multiple lines?”

Marinette looks down to her feet. “Something along those lines.” She feels small. Is there even a reason for this conversation? 

“You should dedicate your second line to her,” he says.

Her eyes flit up to him. “I-I should?”

“Yeah. You’re going to be a great designer, Marinette. Don’t let her bring you down.” His smile is so dazzling it makes her head spin. “Do you want to go in now?”

It takes all she has to nod and open the doors, following after Adrien and taking his arm when offers it. She can hear Alya telling Rose and Juleka about the dress.

Adrien smirks. “Alya has the right idea.”

Marinette stares at him. There’s something so familiar in that smirk. She just doesn’t know what.

**Author's Note:**

> Pull it together, Nino. 
> 
> Fun story, the original title of this was "screw you I can do whatever I fucking want". Also, if it's unclear, Mari ends up taking a lot more time on the dress. She was planning on working herself to the bone to finish it ASAP, but ends up not. 
> 
> NOW WITH A HUNGARIAN TRANSLATION [HERE](http://susielupin.blogspot.co.at/2016/02/ezt-neked-kritika.html) BY THE LOVELY [SUSIELUPIN](http://susielupin.tumblr.com/) ON TUMBLR!  
> Also there's a sorta of sequel focused totally on the reveal: [brick walls](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5889310)!
> 
> I'm on [tumblr](http://buglad.tumblr.com/tagged/my-fics) (and you can reblog this there!) <3


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